The Saga of Dawsen Arendul
by FiveMilesNorth
Summary: The intrigue of secret information, a slain Jedi Knight, and a terrible stranding on Mustafar are just the beginning for Dawsen. What will happen to him, as he meets a smuggler, and re-evaluates his entire life? Action/Adventure, set in the Canon universe, starting before the fall of the Jedi Order and ending later in Dawsen's life, this will be a universe trotting, fun story.
1. The Wasteland

Hello there everyone, this is the Chapter 1.1 of a long story I am writing. It's set 8 months before the fall of the Jedi Order, just for some context. It's been very fun to write and I have a lot to publish. Please feel free to PM me. I'll be uploading every day, so if you like it, check back often! I'll try and have a consistent upload schedule. This story will follow the lead, Dawsen, for a number of years, as he grows up.

I hope you enjoy!

Dawsen looked from the edge of the starship and down, toward the very edge of the planet's rim just below him, tucked behind the wings. Volcanic shifting could be seen, the violent light of magma oceans and rivers below, churning around black soil and choked, poisoned air. His Master, Jedi Knight Torsin Oren, had called the planet Mustafar, in the Mustafar system. The glint of the sun just to the very rim of the planet made it seem to glow from within, as if the planet was alive in some horrid, sinister way.

Master and Padawan were on a research mission, seeking information that Oren had mostly been quiet about. He hadn't confided in Dawsen as he usually did, which, while it bothered the boy, also gave him a sense of the stakes. They had been blasting from system to system, trying to figure out, in the beginning, the location of a missing engineer, which had taken them from place to place until now here they were, in orbit over this dreadful looking planet.

Knight Oren and Dawsen traveled with a compliment of Clone Troops, some from the 501st Legion, which had initially shocked Dawsen. He had heard of their exploits, hushed whispers, of course, within the halls of the Jedi Temple, mostly gossip from the other boys, but, having traveled with them for a few weeks now, he was sure that the stories were true. Although Dawsen was fourteen he had never quite abandoned his childlike excitement for the war stories he had heard.

He even at fourteen was short and stout, thin across the measure of him but muscled from his training. He was neither the best nor the worst student, and he knew there would be no tales sung of his adventures and exploits. He had a feeling that the war would be over before he even really got to fight in it, but that was fine with him. He had skill with his lightsaber, once again not the best or the worst, but he had a sort of deepest respect for and love of his weapon that he often held it just to be sure of its existence.

There was a scar on his forehead from a fight he had been in when he was ten. His eyes were green and hair reddish blonde. He had soft lips that were often seen smiling while he was training, seeming to revel in the fury of battle, and he had to be coached more than once by whoever was preceding over his training to calm himself, to settle his feelings lest they overcome him.

He looked up to Knight Oren with a sort of admiration that few men got. It was a youthful respect as well as a desire to have a surrogate father. He hadn't known his parents, living as neither a slave nor as a wealthy citizen before he had been taken in by the Jedi. He had thrown everything into his training, on a constant level, always wanting to exceed only himself. With his Master he was slowly achieving that goal, and his satisfaction was smooth and calming.

They had been in space for a few weeks while they had been traveling, stopping at a few ports but never straying off the main hyperspace lanes, never going into deeper space or off their intended goals. They were in a Corillian ship, he didn't know the model, but it was enough for them to travel and train with their Clone soldiers, each to their own section of the ship. As they closed toward Mustafar, however, Knight Oren touched his shoulder and gestured to him.

Master and student walked back to the rear of the ship, where Owen's gaze went from tranquil to somewhat disturbed. Dawsen asked, "Whatever is troubling you shouldn't be kept hidden, Master, tell me, please."

"Have you noticed that they have been receiving messages on a coded frequency?"

"No, I have not. What does that mean for us? What do they want to hide?"

"Commonly, as you may well know, the information reviewed would be broadcast to any receiver that is turned to the ship's hyperspace radio unit. Well, I have," he tapped a small unit on his ear, "been monitoring their communications traffic. One message a day has been coded. It's not on a military frequency or one that the Jedi use. I had seen you wearing your receiver, which is why I asked you if you noticed it too."

"I just listen to battle progress where I can hear it. What does the coded signal mean for us?"

The man glanced furtively at the door. "That we may be in danger. In fact, even us coming back here has caused suspicions."

Dawsen could sense it too. "What should we do? You can pilot us back."

"Here." Oren pushed a data chip into his hand. "If there is anything the matter, tell the Council to review this. That will explain it all!"

"What is on it? You haven't told me a word of what we're doing!"

"Because I didn't want to arouse suspicion. I hope that my feelings now are wrong. I'm going to go out there and speak to them. If you hear anything out of the ordinary, get into the escape pod and jettison yourself. They won't follow you, I shouldn't think." He patted the back of Dawsen's hand. "I packed a bag with supplies. Use your feelings, listen. It will be too late for me. I know they are suspicious." He seemed to strongly consider something. He grabbed the boy by his shoulder and started to push, no matter that Dawsen protested, making him go toward the escape pod and shoving him in. "You will survive, with that message intact, and you will see it to the Order. Promise me this!" His eyes were hard and sharp and very powerful as they stared at the boy. "Say it."

Dawsen didn't want to, but he seemed to understand that Oren had something that would be the death of them either way. If the Clones were suspicious and it led to battle, then both of them would die, and the message would be lost. If they went to the planet together, there would be Legions sent after them. Oren was what was considered as a, 'Gray,' Jedi already. It would take no convincing for the Council to see that he was turned to the Dark Side. As Master and Student looked at one another, they both understood that Oren needed to die if this information was to get home. The boy said, in a firm, low voice, looking up into Knight Oren's eyes, "I will survive, at all costs."

The man nodded. "May the Force be with you, always." He stepped back and pulled the lock for the escape pod, pressing a button sequence and, after he set his hand on the window, he pulled his lightsaber out and started to walk. The last Dawsen saw, as there was a rush of air and a sound of pressure releasing, was blaster fire, and muffled screams, and he shot out into space, watching the ship racing off away from him. The door was wrenched open after a few seconds, and blaster fire came shooting out, flying harmlessly past him, but, with a shock that made the entire escape pod shake, it was hit once, twice, and a third time.

There were lights flashing then, a warning about hull damage, nothing that he could fix. He was spinning now, around and around in the orbit over Mustafar, his breathing going from steady to panicked, no matter that he tried to settle himself, to focus on his training. Oren was dead and they would probably come down and search for him. He was falling toward a volcanic planet in a system he had never heard of. Nothing about this was good.

In his sweaty hand he felt the data chip's sharp edge, digging into his skin, pushing a deep imprint against his palm. It was almost comforting, the only thing he had to settle himself as the escape pod started to rumble and shake, the spinning turning to a lazy roll and settling as fire started to blaze out all around the escape pod. He pushed his head back against the wall, eyes closed, focusing only on what he had to do, that he had to survive, that he would make it out of this, no matter what it took.

He felt out, with the Force, trying to help the escape pod toward the surface. Intense fear raced through his mind as everything tumbled and he saw the massive arterial flows of lava below him, pulsing and violent. If he landed in one of them then he wouldn't make it, and Oren would have died for nothing.

The escape pod rolled again, and he went with it, slamming against the wall with a low cry. There was nothing he could do against the action it took, no change he could exert through his power. Maybe if he was Master Yoda, but not as he was now. He tried to tell himself, as he fell, that he was just psyching himself up, that he was wasting time, and, as the escape pod rolled back over again, and he was able to see the surface, he knew he was probably going to die.

All he could see below was a sea of magma, swirling and violent. He knew he might feel it for a moment, but there were no shields that could save him, at least none that this escape pod was equipped with. In his panic, he considered sending the company that made the escape pod a message, to request better shielding.

He was pressed against the window, hands on either side of it, watching the escape pod about to tumble again, watching the lava. Another twenty seconds and he would land, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He set everything he had in his focus to straighten the escape pod out, putting it toward the sky, and fumbled with the controls, trying to see if it had booster jets or something for a better landing. Just outside, he saw the lava sea end, as if some prayer had been answered grabbed the bag, and jammed door handle down. It blasted off and out, ripping away from the main body of the escape pod. He felt the hot air and the ripping wind and watched as the ground raced at him, leaping out as hard and strong as he could, rolling in air to set his feet toward the ground and focusing all on landing safely.

A second before he landed he watched the escape pod smash into the tip of a hill, ripping right down the center, flying into some five pieces from the sheer force of the impact. He slammed into the ground, gasping with pain, realizing too late that he hadn't been focusing completely, but he was mostly fine, slumping forward and crying out, gasping in air, screaming in panic as it washed over him that he had survived, somehow.

He spent a half minute breathing and checking his legs gingerly for damage before he forced himself to stand and looked about the blackened, ruined wasteland that surrounded him. He looked up, into the cloud choked atmosphere, seeing nothing that looked like the Clone's ship, and, either way, he knew that he had to get away from the crash site and to a cave or somewhere that he could survive at least for a small amount of time.

He pushed the data chip into the bag, after he checked the contents of the bag. Food, a set of cloaks for blankets and weather protection, water, a rebreather for water and poison air survival, a small blaster that had clearly been taken from the Clones, and other small trinkets and accessories. He looked to the sky again, blessing Oren, wishing they had just gone together, but he had the feeling that the Clones would have hunted them down either way, sending Legion after Legion until they were dead. Oren had made it sound like his information was important, and, if he was right about the Clones recieving coded transmissions, then Dawsen doubted that they would stop at all.

The air was twisted and hot, swirling and racing along the volcanic bed of the lava ocean to the West of him. He went to the small hill where the escape pod had been shattered and picked through its remains to try and find pieces he might be able to use. When it was clear he couldn't, he donned the set of traveling robes he had to protect him from the floating sparks and cinders that were falling from the sky and looked about, using his feelings to determine where he was to go from here.

He could sense that there were lifeforms here, probably just locals, humanoids or something of that quality, probably nothing that could help him off world. He looked around for buildings, trying to consider in his mind how he would get out of this mess.

Intuition said to go North, so he followed it. He left the shattered escape pod behind and started to walk, setting his hood on his head to try and mitigate some of the hot wind, but it didn't help. It kept the ash and cinders from his eyes, so there was that. There were no goggles in his bag, and he would have traded some of his food for some. The wind made it hard to look around, hard to see, blurring his vision, making him sweat and shake uncontrollably.

He trudged along, touching his hand against his lightsaber, turning it on quickly to be absolutely sure that it was fine, that the crystal inside wasn't offset or whatever. He watched the blade for a moment, moving it this way and that, listening to that familiar hum, feeling comforted by its presence. It was yellow in color, and he loved the look of it. He reset it on his belt after he turned the blade off.

In his heart he could feel a set of uncomfortable pain, clenching as he walked, something he might have equated to guilt of he had been thinking about it clearly. However, he wasn't thinking, just feeling, and, from that, he felt something surging from out of him, grief, an unreal sort of power he had never encountered before. There was a charge, and sparks shot from his right hand, then small gouts of electricity, little jets and bursts of lightning. Instead of shocking him he only felt heat, and the heat was beautiful, filling his angry heart with a strange pleasure that sickened him, even as he wanted to cry.

Heat swirled from the edges of the lava rivers all across the horizon, making the atmosphere seem hazy and yet lurid, twisted and unreal. He drew the edges of the cloak against himself. The ground was hard and sharp and very brittle, depending on where he put his feet. Some sections burst with steam when he stepped on them, and he had to put his focus on his feet to be sure he didn't step over an underground lava flow.

He reached a magma river after an hour. It was seventy feet wide and swirling and horribly hot, radiating heat and steam and making the very air he breathed searing and terrifying to him. Across the way was a cliff, and beside him some small rises that he could get some purchase from. He had leapt farther than seventy feet before, and in fact was quite good at applying the Force in that manner, as he could go fast, but he was worried that the heat would damage him. Master Yoda's voice said, in his memory, something about worry being a path to fear, but he shoo'd the idea out of his head.

He checked his things, sat some thirty feet back from the edge of the magma flow, and meditated for a couple of minutes, breathing deep the heated air, trying to focus and settle his anguished mind. After five minutes had passed he opened his eyes to look ahead, over the superheated, hazy air, toward the other side of the river. He stood in one smooth motion, understanding that there was but one path, that his intuition and knowledge of the Force was all that would lead him to the exit of this horrible place.

He set all his energies on his feet, shifting the bag, tightening it, adjusting too his lightsaber to be sure of it, and, after he breathed out a sigh, he burst forward, ripping across the hardened rock at an immense speed and setting everything into his jump, slamming into the air, shouting with joy as he went sailing over the massive lava river, his arms churning and swirling. He had overshot the jump, and landed almost fifty feet up the cliff, crashing feet and hands first and clinging to it, settling himself, looking down to the lava below.

The heat radiated up, intense even at this height. He climbed, up fifteen feet or so, until he could pull his body onto the edge of the shelf and, after he checked his equipment, lean back, sighing with relief. He felt immensely glad he had bothered to overtrain his ability to move faster and jump higher, having always had a fascination with those abilities, especially now that he had to utilize them to survive.

Some minutes later, time spent with him meditating to gather his energies again, he looked across the horizon, so far as he could see it, that is, to see if the Clones were looking for him. He had a feeling that they had moved on completely. The question of what was on the data chip burned in him, making him hunger to know what would cause his Master to willingly die. He knew that Oren had been training as hard as he could to understand the immortal Force, and wondered now, as he sprawled at the top of the cliff, if the man had succeeded.

There was no voice on the wind, no spry figure to help him from his perdiciment, and he knew that he had no other way of survival save the path he carved for himself, so he forced himself to stand and kept climbing, setting hands and feet against the rock and going up, hanging out over the lava now, aware of the heat but focusing all his energy on making sure that he didn't get hurt by it.

At the top of the cliff structure, some two hundred feet above the lava flow, he saw that the river went down to a lava fall, and that there was a massive valley maybe a mile away, to the East. He had enough of a view that he could surmise that there were no habitable buildings there, nothing he could use to set himself toward. He still felt the presence of others here, some intelligent life, and nothing sinister. Well, there was a feeling, Dark energy, but it wasn't manifested in any sort of power that could hurt him.

As he was focusing, he felt a thought, a sort of question, rather, on the hot wind of the planet. Someone had seen the escape pod crash, either with their eyes or with machinary. He looked to the sky, all about, on one knee by the top of the cliff, trying to see probes or drones that could lead him to salvation, or, conversely, death. Either option was welcome. Better a fight than dying of starvation or from falling into lava.

The idea of what he had felt lasted even when the feeling itself vanished. Hope set itself in him, however, and he knew, without a doubt, that there was someone here for him, someone that could help him, and would help him. All he had to do was hang on, survive, and struggle forth.


	2. The Smuggler, Corsen Namore

He walked across scorched ridgelines and into hot valleys, cutting his shoes and his pants, ripping the edge of his cloak. Always he bore himself forward, pushing against the wind and hot ash and sparks of the world. After maybe seven hours he fell into exhaustion in a small outcrop that was facing away from the wind somewhat, to keep the fire from burning his face.

When he awoke the sun was risen somewhat and he could see more of the blackened, ugly planet around him, stretching across its magma oceans and rivers. In the distance, to the West, there was a Spire, what looked to be a home of some kind, a massive palace, and he felt such hate and misery there that he forced himself to stay away, to keep walking toward the North.

Three days of walking later he had only used half of his rations but he felt himself growing thinner in a marked way. His urine was solid yellow and there were no water sources to find, no plants that bore life. He wondered how he could even breathe on this horrid world.

Still though, he adapted himself to the terrain and to the harshness. Soot covered his arms and his face. He used his energy to feel for where whoever else was here might be, and to cross the massive lava flows that crisscrossed the planet. Some nights it dropped suddenly from whatever terrible temperature it was during the day to what had to be negative temperatures, making him shiver as he slowly shuffled along. Just as quickly the temperature rose, causing him to want to cast the cloak off. Before long, of course, he was cold again.

On the fourth day he felt something, some urging to look to the left, and there, on the horizon line, was a small scout ship, something that he knew a smuggler would use, a quick in and out ship, for easy cargo, like a single person or information or whatever. He immediately stood, casting his pain and fear aside, whipping the lightsaber from his side and turning it on, waving it about. He knew that the Clones wouldn't use such a craft, that if they wanted him, they would be out in force, with their great engines of war. This, no, this was something different. He could trust this.

He put his effort into some sizeable leaps, shooting from the surface of the planet and waving the lightsaber about, trying to get the attention of the little ship. He felt his heart jump when the ship turned and flashed lights toward him, shooting forward. Within twenty seconds it was to him, swirling about comfortably before the landing gear lowered and it set down. A man was inside it, appearing utterly astonished at the sight of him.

He turned the lightsaber off and set it to his belt, jogging toward the ship, leaning against the side of it, looking at the little astrodroid that was sitting squawking at him on the wing. The man inside was fiddling with his equipment gauges, doing something, but, after ten seconds more there was a hiss and the atmosphere was let out of the ship. The cockpit opened and the man lifted out of it somewhat. "Hot damn, son, what're you doing out here? I been looking fer ya for since I got a seismic reading." He lifted a small screen up to show Dawsen. "You look messed up."

"Do you have water?" Dawsen climbed onto the wing and knelt right beside the droid, looking desperately at the man.

"Just my water. I've drunk out of it."

The boy reached for it, staring intently at the bottle until it was in his hand. He drank half of what was in the bottle, feeling what had been terribly dry insides become moistened, become nourished and vibrant again. It was pleasure he had rarely known. When he was done he nodded, passing the bottle back and saying, "Thank you. My name is Dawsen. I am a Padawan learner of the Jedi Order, and I was forced to crash land here after an altercation with the Clone Troops on my Master's vessel. To be completely honest I don't know why they attacked, but I'm here now. I need assistance getting back to Coruscant. I have Republican Credits, not much, but I'm sure the Order can afford more."

The man waved his hand. "I'll help you out because you need it, I don't need any Credits for doing my duty to the Jedi. I'm not on the either side, let me tell you, money is money, but I'd rather not want the Jedi on my bad side. First, we need to get you back to the compound, get you cleaned up and dressed better, fed and watered. The name's Corsen Namore." He thrust his hand out, and Dawsen shook it firmly. "I don't have much room in here."

Dawsen took his bag off, dropped it beside the man, and fell onto his lap. "If I'm in the way, move me."

Corsen laughed heartily. "That's the spirit." He checked the side of the ship for any forgotten items and closed the cockpit, lifted off and twisted about, touching some information into the navigation computer, and they shot away. Within five minutes they were on the other side of the planet, almost, descending toward a hole in the side of a massive cliff. They went in, spinning about and lowering into the darkness. A light eminated from below, and the cockpit was suddenly flooded with light, warm, holographic light, not the constant, horrid glare of the overworld.

They touched down in a garage of sorts, beside a larger ship, one that was two storied and long and wide, clearly a smuggler's ship. Dawsen said, "You're a smuggler?"

"Yes, I am." He opened the cockpit and patted the boy's shoulders. "Up and out, that's a good lad. We'll let you fed and cleaned, then you can sleep in a proper bed."

Dawsen climbed out onto the wing, reaching back for his bag, sliding down when he had it, checking quickly to be sure that the man hadn't taken anything. He set the bag on his back and looked around. Spare parts were arranged around, clearly for the starship, and, behind the starship he could see what looked like a three story modular home, white on the sides with rounded edges and wide transparisteel windows. "Nice set up."

The man hopped out. "Come on R4, let's go. Thanks. You, uh, don't have a problem with smugglers, right?"

The boy laughed softly. "I could kiss you for saving me from that. I can feel that I'm almost dead. Another few days and I wouldn't have made it." He shook his head. "No sir, I don't care at all." He gestured to the R4 unit. "Where'd you get that droid?"

The man rubbed his hand on his neck for a moment, chuckling sheepishly. "Erm, smugglers are as smugglers do, I suppose."

Dawsen rolled his eyes. "Smuggers aren't always thieves, but, once again, I don't care. I just want water and food."

"And," Corsen went to a sink that was set beside his home, taking a wash clothe up and tossing it to the boy, "a shower. You stink, sorry to say. How about you start with that, shower's there," he gestured to it, "there's no cooling, so it'll be warm just from the sheer heat of the rocks in this cave." He shrugged. "Can't do anything about it. Do you have a spare set of clothes in that bag of yours?"

Dawsen had already been stripping his clothes off, uncaring from his time at the Jedi Temple to be seen nude, but, as the man asked this, he double checked. "No. Nothing at all. Can I clean these?"

"If you'd like, but, I think I have a spare set of clothes that I was SUPPOSED to sell, and never managed to. Big bin from Alderaan. Royal's clothes, I think, gold and some fine stuff on it. Should be about your size." He watched for a moment while Dawsen stripped his pants off and folded them, looking at himself in the mirror.

"I look like a disaster."

"You look like a survivor. Shower. I'll fix you something to eat."

The boy nodded, watching the man watch him for a moment, and went to shower sprayer, finding that the hot water felt good, even though he had had enough heat to last him a good long while. He cleaned every crack and crevasse, making sure to let his braid out and even cleaning between his toes. When he was pink and sparkling clean he got the towel and sat on the edge of a crate, drying himself throughly.

Soon enough, the man came back, carrying some clothes on his arm. "I actually did sell those royal clothes, sorry. Here's some that might fitcha. Have a try." He set them beside the boy, then touched his shoulder. "There's a, I dunno, a charge, around you. You alright?"

The boy checked the pants that Corsen had laid down, brown linen things that looked incredibly comfortable, and nodded. "Yes, why?"

"There's a haunted look in your eye that doesn't equal survivin. You see a loss?"

The boy clenched his fist sharply. "Yes, but I'd rather not talk about it at this moment, okay?"

The man held his hands up. "I'm sorry, where are my manners."

"No," Dawsen touched his wrist, "it's not that, I'm just, processing it. Been going straight since he di-" he looked at the ground for a moment, "since he died."

Corsen knelt and looked Dawsen straight in the eye. "We just met, sure, but I'm here for you, understand? If you want to tell me, you can trust me to keep your secrets."

Dawsen nodded. "Thanks." He considered the shirt but didn't apply it. He pulled away from the man to get his lightsaber and the blaster and set them both on his belt when he got it. He considered himself in the mirror for a moment. The heat and the long walk had turned him raggedly thin. All that was left was the shreds of muscle he had and a very very thin layer of fat on his abdomen, though he was pleased to see that his abs were still firm as ever. He knew Oren would have called that fat water weight, left as a last resort, and knew, as he checked around, that he would need to get back to training immediately. Well, maybe after he recovered for a day or two.

The man nodded smoothly, glancing down at his feet. "You want some shoes?"

Dawsen stretched his toes out. "Naw, I'll be fine. I just want to eat. I'm willing to work to earn it."

Corsen held his hand up. "No need. I won't ask you for anything, son. I only hope that you succeed in whatever you have to do. Yes, you need to eat, so, follow me." He led Dawsen up a small set of stairs and into the little modular home that had been set in the cave. It was only about fifteen feet deep, with stairs right ahead of the doorway, a couple low couches and a longrange transmitter, holographic screens that showed some sports games from across the galaxy, somewhere. To the left was a kitchen, set into the entire structure of the unit beside this one. The modular pieces were welded together in the center, strengthed with a set of steel pieces that went from the sides of the welded pieces at angles into the walls. Corsen pointed upward, saying, "There's an sitting area upstairs, and beds, and my bedroom is on the very top floor. I have a couple guys I run with from time to time that are obviously currently not here. Also," he slapped his hands together, "I have a little friend you might like."

There was a soft mewling sound and a soft, fluffy, whitish-blue creature came inquisitively to the top of the stairs. It was maybe a foot long, with a long, bushy tail that was longer than its body, big fluffy ears that were cocked forward, and soft paws, the toes capped with little claws that were pushed against the very edge of the stairs. The little creature mewled again and leapt lightly to the floor, scurrying over, not to Corsen, but to the boy, leaping atop his shoulder effortlessly and snuggling in, wrapping that long tail around his neck and settling, purring across the length of its body. Dawsen giggled despite himself, reaching up to stroke the creature, smiling to feel it so soft and luxurious under his fingers. "What is it?"

"I don't know the name, rightly. Comes from one of the Core systems. Don't know which one exactly. Got him on a run, as trade for something else, creature for creature, ya know?" The man grinned. "He likes ya. Come sit, son, I'll fix you something to eat." He went to the table, white with cushy white padded chairs, and pulled one out. "I already started on something while ya were showering." He went to the stove and glanced back to confirm that Dawsen had sat down.

The moment he did he felt his exhaustion slam into him, truly, a whole-body awareness that he was utterly distressed and needed to rest and recover. Everything he had eaten these last few days had only barely helped to keep him alive, and he was utterly grateful to Corsen that he had been willing to look for him and save him from his suffering. "How did you find me?"

Corsen half turned and glanced back at him. "Oh, that, yeah. There's a caldera on the other side of the planet. I embedded some siesmic charges that can detect impacts, maybe fifteen of them, all over the planet. They can tell me if something is coming up of coming down. I see astroid strikes all the time, and that's what I thought you was. Good money in some of those asteroids, metals and that. I had a fit of shock when I saw ya leaping and swinging your laser sword around." He looked for a moment at it, seeming frightened of it.

"You have the siesmic sensors in case the caldera explodes? Why live here if there is such danger? Is it really that good of a base if you're in that much danger?"

Corsen shrugged. "Yeah. Everything here can be packed up right quick and taken into the atmosphere. The caldera is on basically the exact opposite side of the planet, so I'll have plenty of time to get away from it if there's a problem. Course, I don't think it will be a problem, the locals don't seem worried, but I'd rather not have problems in my life." He flipped whatever he was making and swirled it around with his poker. "Now, you don't have to tell me what your story is until you're good and ready, but I'd like to know before you and I leave here if we'll get any heat, from the Jedi or the Seperatists, from you traveling."

"I was given information that the Jedi Council will need to review. I don't know if I'm in danger, honestly. The Clones would have sent more soldiers if I was being hunted, and trust me when I saw that I looked."

"I know, I look too. There's some dark characters come and go here. I keep to myself, keep to my silence as much as I can. I aint on the run and I want to stay that way. I like being single and free. Best way to be." He favored the boy for a few moments. "Where are my manners?" He got a big pitcher of water and a cup. "Ya probably know more about survival stuff than me, so I won't try and suggest how you deal with that." He slid them both across the table and returned to his cooking.

Dawsen took the pitcher somewhat greedily and upended it, drinking as much as he could, knowing that he probably shouldn't, but it felt so good that he had to. When he was satisfied he leaned back, stroking the furry animal on his shoulders, rubbing his stomach. "Excellent. I just want to eat and sleep now."

The man was watching him, his eyes fervent and sharp. Dawsen noticed and didn't care as to the quality of his gaze, caring little for what the man thought or wanted right now. "That's a laser sword, isn't it? That's how you flagged me down."

Dawsen nodded sleepily. He took it from his belt and turned it on. The fluffy animal could be felt jolting awake and flew off his shoulders, skittering and crying out, racing for the stairs. Dawsen giggled but directed his attention to the man. "Made with a kyber crystal, part of my initiation trial. Had to build it myself. Excellent device, I quite like it."

"Well," the man swallowed uncomfortably, "I'm afraid of it."

"I understand that." He turned it off. "It is a tool as any other. The skill of using it requires a knowledge of the Force. You know of the Force?"

The man nodded. "Yes, and I know that those swords can cut through anything."

"Not anything. There are things that can deflect it, I think the hide of a Zillo beast is one of them, blaster bolts." He shrugged, set the lightsaber on the table in front of him, and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "How long will we be here?" I need to recover and train before I head back to the Jedi Order. I have to be in top physical condition, constantly."

The man smiled sheepishly. "Well, there's a job I have to run here soon. Kinda complicated, and, if I don't do it I'll be in deep with one of the gangsters on the Outer Rim."

"When and where? Also, please tell me it isn't the Hutts. They have a terrible reputation."

Corsen waved his hand. "Nothing that big, no, not the Hutts. He's a small time character that works at an astroid base, trading unit, you know. I have to collect the items first, which," he smiled even more sheepishly, "means I have to steal them, in laymen's terms, and from there I have to go to him and deliver the goods. I don't have the best hyperdrive, which, as it looks, I'm trying to get one from him, so travel time is a factor." He picked at the counter for a moment. "I got a Class 4 hyperdrive in now, looking at getting either a Class 2 or, if I'm incredibly lucky, a Class 1."

Dawsen's eyebrow's shot up. "That's better than most Military craft. I heard that there are some Sith craft that travel that fast, but that's probably a rumor." He smiled as Corsen lifted the pan and upended what he had been making onto a plate. This he brought to the boy. "Thanks so much. There's rumor about a smuggler ship that has a Class 0.5, but that's probably a lie."

Corsen's eyes went low for a moment. "I'd love to have something like that. Either way, I have that job to do. Have to leave for it in a week's time, should take a three days of travel, then the window of opprotunity will be open, and I can move on it."

Dawsen, as he absolutely tore apart what Corsen had cooked for him, meat and some bread, mostly, said, "We."

"You're not a smuggler!"

"But I'm agile and quite capable of defending myself. I'm smaller than you and I'll bet my lightsaber that you can't jump like I can. You need to sneak in and steal, you tell me your plan and we can reherse it. That'll be my contribution to you." He gestured with his eating utensil. "Even if you're doing this to be nice, I don't believe in not working."

"You're a boy!"

"I'm a Padawan learner. I've worked my entire life, short though it is. I'll help you and that's final, even if I'm only observing or piloting." He ate as fast as he could, observing silence until his meal was done. He pushed the plate away from himself, drank some more water, and nodded. "Excellent cooking."

"You were just hungry, I promise, I'm no stellar cook."

"I'd still be wandering out there if it weren't for you. Now, I need rest, do you mind?"

The man shook his head firmly. "No, I'd prefer it. You look ragged still. Sleep, especially after that big meal, will help you recover as nothing else. But you already knew that. You'll sleep in my bed, and that's final."

The boy nodded. He looked into Corsen's eyes and felt the trust in him. He knew that he was safe here, in body, spirit, and mind, that he wasn't in danger of being sold out or raped or anything else. He rose, taking his lightsaber and holding it, following the man upstairs, considering getting his bag, and, as he thought, he knew he should. "I'm going to get my things. There's something from my Master that I want to hold."

Corsen seemed to understand that it was his Master that had died, but he was tactful, nodding simply. "Come to the top level. I'll get it prepared for you."

He got his bag and went up the stairs, seeing a mess of cots over the kitchen and a sitting area over the downstairs sitting area. The stairs were stacked similiarly, so he went further up, to where Corsen was remaking the bed for him to sleep on, the stripped blankets laying on the floor. Without a word the boy took the blankets off the floor and pulled then over him, slumping back into the bed and moaning with pleasure, stretching across the length of him. When he was comfy he took the lightsaber and blaster and his bag and set them to the side of the bed, the lightsaber in his reach, and pushed his hand into his bag, hunting for the data chip. When he had it he pulled it close to himself, nodding to the man that all was well, and immediately fell into sleep.


	3. Preperations for Training

Many hours later, he didn't know how long, really, he awoke to the comfort of the blankets. The furry creature was laying on his naked chest, purring and warm and comfortable. He could feel, immediately, that he was in no danger, that the man was downstairs somewhere.

He let himself enjoy the bed for another few minutes before he pulled the little animal off him, giggling when it mewled and tried to climb back atop him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, aware that he had bedhead and, all at once, the intense urge to pee. So, after he tucked the data pad into his pocket, did his braid up, he took the creature and his lightsaber and went to the stairs.

Corsen was on the bottom floor, reading from a tablet. Upon hearing the boy's footsteps he stood, nodding smoothly and looking in earnest at Dawsen. The boy said, his voice groggy and sleepy, "Heya."

"Hello. Want to eat?"

"I gotta pee, actually. After that, I'll figure out what else needs to happen."

The man pointed under the stairs. "Right there, son, get ya settled and come out here."

He tried to set the creature down but it wouldn't go, instead climbing up his arm and laying across his shoulders. He shrugged, going into the little toilet room and, without even pulling the curtain, he took his pants down and started to urinate. He didn't even think about anything other than the satisfaction of being well rested and comfortable, his mind straying to the horror of what might have been if he hadn't rescued.

He shook his head, settling himself. That hadn't been his fate, so he had no right to think about it. No right, and no need. He stood for a good hand minute, eyes closed, holding his foreskin back with his thumb and forefinger, slipping into his meditation, feeling the world around him. Save for the man and the little creature on his shoulders and some indiginous he was aware of something dark and terrifying here, some abomidable, hungry energy that hated endlessly.

All in a rush the memory of what had happened to Oren came back to him, somehow forgotten as he had slept, fortunately, but, when it came, it slammed into him hard, and he almost fell to his knees. He put himself away, however, and leaned against the wall of the little toilet room. As on the volcanic plains he felt that electricity crackling and sparkling and breaking between his fingers, shocking him even as it invigorated him to the deepest parts of him. He slammed his hand against the wall, pushing his forehead against it, trying to calm himself, trying to let his anger settle, but there, within the roaring, swelling fury of it, a guilt that he had never sensed before. He felt as though something on the planet had known he was hurting, that he was suffering, and knew it, and wanted his hate to be worse.

The little creature on his shoulders mewled softly, and pressed close to his face, licking his cheek, breathing hot, delicate wet patterns on his skin, and, all at once, as it had come, he remembered himself. The electricity that crackled and sparked on his hand didn't abate, however. It went between his fingers like lightning between a series of rods, breaking and shifting and growing when he clenched his fist. It felt good, better than anything he had ever felt before, as if he was giving in to something, even though he had no idea what the lightning was and how it was manifesting.

After another half minute of him breathing heavily, the electricity slowly dissipating, at the creature licking his cheek, he became aware that the man was standing in front of the door, looking in at him. He turned his head to look sheepishly over at the man. "H-hey."

"You hungry?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"I made something earlier. I'll heat it up. You slept for most of a day. You look a lot better, got your color back. You were sickly pale when I found you. Healthy now, and stronger. You feel better?" He held his hand out, touching Dawsen's shoulder when he came forward, leading him in to sit at the table and going to the stove to reheat what he had made. His eyes looked inquisitively over at Dawsen.

"Yes, I feel a lot better. I, well, I need to start exercising. I can go outside and set up a course, if you want to keep this interior space calm-"

Corsen waved his hand. "It wouldn't bother me at all to have you train in here. You need to be in top physical shape, I understand. You have your way of coping, as I have mine. I've been trying to map out how we'll be fulfilling the contract. I'm going to trust you, even though I don't know why I am, to do the heavy lifting here. If you so desire."

Dawsen nodded eagerly. "I'll be ready."

"Excellent. You'll enjoy it, I can tell. You have that fire in your eyes. A lust for adventure." He looked as though he had something more he very much wanted to say, but he just watched the boy for a few seconds more before he returned to his cooking.

Dawsen's jaw churned about as he tried to voice what he was thinking, but he couldn't make it come out clearly, so he shut up. He watched the cant of Corsen's hips as he leaned, the broad stretch of his back, not overly built but muscular all the same, handsome but not pretty or ugly. There was something almost boyish in him, even though he was probably twenty nine. It was a sort of beautiful graceless passion that Dawsen had seen in boys at the Jedi Academy, and, after a minute, he realized he was staring like a complete fool at the man.

He rose, his cheeks burning, and he said, "I-I'm gunna check outside for a minute." Oblivious to his thoughts, Corsen just nodded and waved his hand. He peeled the creature from his shoulders and sit it on the table, taking his lightsaber in hand and heading to the door and down the steps, looking at the large ship out here, then the small craft he had been rescued in. The R4 unit was off on the side of the room, ahead and to the left of him, doing something with a computer, probably calibrations for the engines or weight estimations.

His eyes sized the space up, trying to determine where he could exercise comfortably, safely, with less possibility of damaging equipment or himself. He sat on the wing of the small ship and meditated, ignoring the flashes of lightning that were still shooting from his hand, less and less now that he wasn't focused completely on his anger. He felt his guilt again, ebbing and surging in him as he tried to forget everything save the present, and, once again, the memory of Master Yoda's voice said that guilt was a path to greed, or something like that. He tried and failed for a time to just feel the metal under him, and, when he succeeded, he went up his body, loosening his muscles, feeling his heart beating inside him, his braid laying across his shoulder, his eyes loosely lidded and twitching as though he was in REM sleep. He was aware that Corsen was watching him, and could feel the man's thoughts of him.

His eyes opened, and he looked in at the man. He called, well aware that he was blushing deeply, "Do you mind?"

Corsen retreated behind the wall, thankfully.

He meditated until he was just aware of the Living Force, permeating all, existing throughout all of creation. He extended his will, his own power, until he could feel the crates that surrounded him, feeling for what was inside them. The unimportant ones were stacked, shaped into an obstacle course. He made it so it was a run around the entire chamber, as large as he was capable of making it with the number of boxes and crates that were available. He set long beams down for balance, some sections where he would need to leap from a small bucket to another small bucket, landing on the very rim of the buckets themselves. No room for error.

He thought back to his training, before and even after he had earned his lightsaber. He had had to traverse a chamber that was filled with lights, along with the other Padawan Learners, and not cross any of the beams. He had always excelled in and very much enjoyed these trials, just about as much as he had enjoyed the lightsaber training and combat they had performed, starting first with probes and small drones and eventually learning the forms. He was excelling at a few of the forms, and struggling in others. He was proud and happy, as he slowly positioned everything, that he had had his training.

When he was done he was tired, as applying the Force in that way was ultimately tiring, and Corsen had been sitting watching him for a while, allowing him to finish what he was doing so that he was settled and focused for later. One more thing off their list. He opened his eyes, allowing his awareness of everything surrounding him to diminish, and, after a minute, he stood, stretching up toward the sky, then touching his toes. He went to the inside of the modular home that Corsen had built and sat at the table.

He was served. Corsen had a look of distinct pleasure on his face as he sat across from the boy, as if he was glad to find someone with him again. Dawsen could feel that it had been some time since Corsen had really had anyone with him, and, while this was sad, he also understood that the man wanted some freedom. That didn't stop him from enjoying the fact that someone was here with him now, inhabiting his space, here to share his goals and problems and hopes. He smiled at the man before he started to eat, drinking from a cup that was filled with a delicious blue milk that he had had on the Outer Rim before.

Corsen waited for him to finish eating. When he had, the man cleared his dishes and said, "How's your obsticle course work?"

"It's enough for me to practice different movement techniques, depending on how I go from side to side. I can go in every direction, essentially, and always have a new course."

"Well of course. Did they teach you this at the Jedi Temple?"

Dawsen shook his head. "I reverse engineered it from a trial room we had to go through. Its similiar but different, of course. We had to navigate lights. I hear that the Sith had to negotiate real traps that would kill them if they made mistakes, and I believe it.'

"How are you going to go about training?"

"Well, after an hour or so, I'll just do practice runs, down and back, while focusing on the Force to guide me. I'll do things like run with my lightsaber out, which has obvious merits, or hold something in the air beside myself to make my concentration better."

"You mean," Corsen pointed at the maze, "do acrobatics and stuff with something floating beside you?"

Dawsen nodded as though it was the most obvious thing ever. He made his lightsaber float and did a hand stand, lifting off one hand, then onto two fingers. He set the lightsaber on his right foot.

"Okay, show off, I get the point."

The boy righted himself. "That's legitimately an exercise we had to do at the Academy. Making things swirl around us, or stacking objects. Makes our focus sharp, attuned."

Corsen rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, remind me to never cross ya."

Dawsen giggled and hugged the man, forgetting himself entirely for a moment. When he realized what he was doing he pulled away awkwardly and went to the door, blushing to his neck. "I'm, uh, gunna meditate."

Corsen laughed softly. "If you want a shower, you know where it is. I'll be in here preparing for the run we gotta do."

Dawsen grumbled something under his breath and went outside, meditating for an hour or so. He did all that he could to focus on his goal, knowing his body and mind needed to be sharp. He couldn't focus on or think about the fact that Oren was dead, or that he had no idea of what was on the data chip he had been given. And, deep in the core of him, he couldn't fathom what was wrong with him, why he was so interested in Corsen. It had to be respect. Yeah, that was it. Respect for having been helped when he was desperate. He told himself that it couldn't possibly be anything else...


End file.
